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Billy frowned. "Who?" Wilson did not answer. He was listening for the stairs to creak, telling him that Billy had left his eaves-dropping for the security of the loft. "You saw it?" Maurice, who could not think of questioning his chum's word, gasped in amazement..

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"I'm here, ma'am," answered Pledge. A blue-jay and a yellow-hammer flashed by him, side by side, racing for the grubbing-fields of the soft woods below, their blue and yellow bodies marking twin streaks against the hazy light. Blue and yellow, truly the most wonderful colors of all the colorful world, thought Billy. The scene faded and in its place grew up a face with blue, laughing eyes and red, smiling lips, above which gleamed a halo of spun gold. Then the woodland picture swam back before him and the squirrel, which with the characteristic patience of its kind had waited to watch this boy who often threw it a nut-kernel, called after him chidingly as he dipped down into the valley. "Come Croaker," pleaded Maurice again. But the crow was obdurate. It is barely possible that he failed to recognize Maurice owing to the sick boy's altered looks or perhaps he expected a glimpse of the reward which was always his for the performing of a service. With one backward look from his bright eyes, he spread his short wings and sailed across to Mrs. Keeler, settling on her shoulder with a harsh croak, whereat that greatly-startled lady sat down on the gravel, her lap full of dirty water and potatoes. "That won't hurt him; he's always tired anyway," rejoined Billy. "But we'd best go.".